


The General's Mate

by JackyJango



Series: Cherik Week 2020 [3]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alpha Erik Lehnsherr, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Erik Lehnsherr Has Feelings, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Light Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Charles Xavier, Sebastian Shaw Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: Erik is the General of a small kingdom on the outskirts of Genosha. Shaw’s army invades his lands, loots his home and kills his mother, wife and daughter. In a bid to get revenge, Erik, with the help of rival Queen, Emma Frost and her army attack the Genoshan capital. Erik kills Shaw.Amongst the loots of the palace is Shaw’s harem and its occupants. Erik’s soldiers drag in a young Omega with blue eyes and red lips, who apparently was Shaw’s favourite. With every intention of killing the Omega like Shaw killed his family, Erik tells his soldiers to leave the Omega with him. But he soon learns that the Omega, Charles, is also a victim of Shaw just like himself- that Charles, a son of a Lord, was sold to Shaw by his stepfather and kept captive against his will.Anger drained from his system, Erik hands Charles a pouch of gold coins and the reins of a horse and tells him to go home. But Charles refuses because he couldn’t home carrying the reputation of being Shaw’s bed warmer. With no other place to go, Erik gives Charles shelter under his roof while a slow friendship builds between them in the process.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: Cherik Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927336
Comments: 4
Kudos: 179
Collections: Cherik Week 2020





	The General's Mate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cherik Week Prompt- Day 3: "ABO Dynamics / Flower shop AU"  
> Posted on Tumblr [here](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com/post/628707267765829632/the-generals-mate)!
> 
> Warning: Mentions of Abortions
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading it! Cheers!

Charles wakes to the sounds of whimpers and groans-- as he has been for the last two days. The situation is worsening, for Erik has begun trashing his head against the pillows and flinging his arms in the air-- much in the fashion of sword fighting-- all the while cursing and gritting his teeth. The behaviour is typical of fever induced nightmares, and the fever in turn must be caused by the wound on Erik’s torso.

The moonlight peeping into their small hut though the opening vent in the far wall illuminates Erik's profile dimly where he's sleeping on his bedroll a few feet away from Charles. The gentle breeze of spring ruffles the hem of Erik’s tunic, exposing the severe gash that begins below Erik’s collar bone and ends in the vicinity of his heart. Infected with pus, the skin around the cut has turned yellow. Whoever cleaned the cut-- if someone even had-- has done a poor job of removing the blood. The dried blood clogging the exposed flesh is preventing the wound from healing. The frequent brushes of the fabric against the broken skin must no doubt be painful.

Charles is tempted to rush to Erik’s side, stroke his fingers through Erik’s short crop, cradle his head and ease the pain away, but he doesn’t dare move from where he’s sleeping on his own bedroll. As much as he hates seeing Erik in any form of pain, he also doesn’t dare disturb whatever form of truce that has been building steadily between them in the past few months. Contrary to whatever horrid narratives there might be to their relationship on the streets-- and Charles knows there are-- the bond that they share in this small space enclosed by mud walls is something pure, something that transcends the grasp of the common tongue.

It’s delicate and yet strong, subtle and still bold, insignificant and yet so overpowering. Charles likes to call it friendship, because Erik has been nothing short of an exemplary friend to him. He listens when Charles speaks-- not just hears, but listens. He respects Charles and values his views. He has never undermined Charles on the account of him being an Omega. In every sense of the word, Erik has treated him like an equal. If that isn't friendship, then what is?

These days, however, Charles is finding it difficult to believe that ‘ _ friendship _ ’ can barely contain the bond they share. Some days, Erik will bring a sweet-treat from the market that Charles had mentioned liking in passing, or he'll smile softly at Charles over their chess board, or hold Charles' gaze even in a crowd, and the word crumbles in Charles' heart and turns sour. 

Sometimes the urge to touch Erik is so strong that it knocks Charles over. Sometimes the urge to bury his nose in the crook of Erik's neck and inhale his scent is so potent that it nearly disrupts his senses. Sometimes, the urge to just be close to Erik is so powerful that it leaves Charles trembling in its wake.

Erik groans again, pulling Charles from his thoughts. Charles twists his trembling hands in the threadbare bedsheet to keep them from reaching out to Erik. There's still a barrier between them despite how far they've come from their initial days of acquaintance. A barrier Charles didn't dare breach. 

A mixture of white willow bark, turmeric and rosemary ground in frankincense oil should reduce the inflammation and infection, and a tonic of ginger and basil should bring the pain induced fever down. Charles creates a list of the other ingredients he needs in his head, and makes a note to procure them from Angel the first thing in the morning. He may not be able to comfort Erik and ease his pain, but he can certainly concoct a medicine that could.

One eye trained on Erik, Charles barely sleeps through the night.

The next morning, Charles looks at the assorted herbs and plants on the table in front of him, checking it off one by one against the list in his head. 

'Is that all?' Angel asks with a suggestive smirk.

Satisfied, he nods. 'Yes, that is all.'

'What are these for, lover boy?' Angel goes around the counter of her small flower shop that doubles as Charles’ source of medicinal herbs, and retrieves a large lotus leaf. 'To increase your Alpha's performance?'

Charles flushes brightly, and it only serves to deepen the smirk on Angel's face. Despite her vulgar sense of humour, Angel is one of few who doesn’t treat him differently for his past, and Charles suspects that it has something to do with resemblance to her own.

'It's fine,' she says, wrapping his purchases in the leaf and securing it with a twine. 'I'm not going to talk. I can keep a secret.'

He doesn't comment, mostly because he's impatient to get home and begin working on the medicines. He leaves Angel's shop flushing after she winks and wishes him luck.

The rest of Charles' day is spent in boiling leaves and reducing them to create a tonic, grinding a root to extract its oil, or in mixing herbs to create a salve.

He's grinding the last of the mixtures into a fine paste when Erik enters through the door. Charles is so lost in the process that he almost jumps a foot in the air when Erik calls for him.

'Erik!' Charles beams, wiping his gritty hands on his white robe. ‘Oh dear, is it dark already? I barely noticed.’

Erik looks around their home, at the mud stove and takes in the various vials and bowls containing tonics and ointments. A small smile tugs at his lips. ‘Clearly.’ He walks further into what classifies as a kitchenette and picks up a bundle of twigs. ‘What are these for?’

Charles bites his lip. Oh, dear. What if Erik refuses to be treated? What if he laughs at Charles or waves away his concerns? He should have consulted with Erik before concocting tonics and balms. Regardless, it’s too late for that now, so Charles says slowly, ‘You have a wound on your chest.’

‘Yes,’ Erik says, making it sound more like a question than an affirmation.

‘Well, whoever cleaned it has done a poor job, and now it’s infected. The infection might get into your bloodstream if it isn’t treated.’

‘And this is?’ Erik gestures vaguely at the mess Charles has made around their kitchen. 

‘Medicine,’ Charles says, wringing his hands, ‘It should stop the infection from spreading and help in healing the wound.’

‘And you…’ Erik’s eyes rake over a dozen vials filled with an amber fluid, ‘made all of it?’

Charles nods vigorously.

Erik stares at Charles for a long moment, head tilted to one side, like a cat would look at a ball of yarn, amazed and skeptical at the same time. ‘Right,’ he says just when Charles begins to think that either Erik would begin laughing at him or walk right out the door. ‘Then we should get right to it, I suppose. What do you want me to do?’

Charles sighs in relief. This, Charles knows very well. ‘I can’t apply the medicine without thoroughly cleaning the wound. So please sit down and take off your tunic.’ 

A heat spreads through Charles’ cheeks even as he says it, and he turns towards the stove to hide it. Erik moves behind him as Charles busies himself with boiling a bowl of water. Once boiled, he lowers the bowl from the fire, grabs a bundle of clean cotton cloth, arranges a few other vials he'd need on a tray and goes to where Erik’s sitting on the bedroll, legs outstretched in front of him and back leaning against the wall. 

A flush spreads anew on his cheeks on seeing Erik's bare torso. It's a miracle that the contents of the tray haven’t spilled out from his unsteady hands. Opting to stare instead on the contents of the tray, Charles comes to sit on the bedroll beside Erik. 

This close, Erik's scent is a dizzying thing and his body heat is impossible to ignore. 

_ Take hold of yourself _ , Charles tells himself, taking shorter breaths through his nose. Erik's injured, he needs medical attention, not his fumbling ones. 

'Here.' Charles picks a vial containing a clear liquid from the tray and hands it to Erik, decisively not looking him in the eye. 'Drink this. It'll bring the fever down.'

Erik takes the vial wordlessly and drains down the contents with a wince while Charles folds a length of cotton cloth and dips it in a bowl of spirit. 

'This might sting a bit,' Charles says in warning, leaning forward to wipe at the wound. Up close, the cut isn't as bad as Charles had assessed it to be. The infection is localised. Cleaning and draining away the pus should help it heal faster. 

Erik hisses as the cloth drags against the bruised skin, the lumps of dried blood resisting the movement. 

'Sorry,' Charles whispers and squeezes Erik's shoulder once with his other hand. 'How did this happen?'

'Az and I were practicing. He nicked my skin by mistake.' Erik's voice is barely above a whisper, and his soft breaths whisp against the skin of Charles' nape, tinkling every hair follicle in its wake. Charles barely suppresses a shudder. 

'Didn't you have it looked at by a physician?'

'I didn't think it would turn septic,' Erik admits sheepishly. 

Charles hums in reply. With the dried blood removed, Charles cleans the wound with water. He dips another piece of clean cloth in a tonic and dabs it on the cut to drain away the pus. 

They spend the next few minutes in comfortable silence as Charles continues to drain the pus from the cut. At least, it isn't so bad that it would need stitches.

'How did you know?' It's Erik who breaks the silence. 'I don't remember telling you.'

'You were having nightmares for a couple of days now, and I figured it was because of the injury,' Charles says risking a glance at Erik.

'Oh. I'm sorry-' Erik stutters, chagrined. 'I'm sorry if I disturbed or kept you awake-'

'It's okay, Erik.' Charles smiles soothingly. 'And in a way, it was a good thing I noticed. Otherwise, the septic would have spread.' 

Erik doesn't reply to that and Charles continues with his ministrations. He fills the cut with a salve after draining away the pus and places a clean piece of cotton over it. Cutting another long, rectangular piece of cotton, Charles loops it around Erik's chest to keep the salve in place. The wound has to be cleaned after two days and the process has to be repeated until the cut dries completely, but Charles already knew that. He’d mixed enough medicine to last them a month.

Still not daring to look at Erik, Charles picks up the empty vials and the bits of the dirtied cloth on the tray and moves to get up, only to be stopped by Erik’s warm hand on his arm.

‘Thank you,’ Erik says sincerely when Charles finally looks up. There’s something deep in Erik’s eyes, an emotion that conveys so much more than the gratitude coming out of his lips. ‘I… Thank you.’

‘It’s fine, Erik,’ Charles smiles gently, but makes no effort to move from the spot.

Erik nods. ‘Where did you learn all this?’ He asks, eyeing the tray and the remnants of medicine it contains.

‘Oh,’ Charles says, placing the tray on the floor beside him and training his gaze on the patch of dried green paste on the folds of his robe. ‘I’d always been interested in medicine, I suppose. Even as a child I used to run to the gardens and dirty my attire trying to gather herbs. It drove my mother mad.’ He chuckles at the memory of his furious mother chastising him and the servants for allowing Charles out of the Mansion in the first place. ‘My mother had thought that I was acting on behalf of a child’s curiosity and that my antics would fade as I grow up. But it didn’t. It only got stronger. My father was always supportive, and it did help that he was the Lord of Weschester. The title helped him procure books on medicine from various sellers. By the time I was fifteen, half of his library was filled with my books. I studied those books religiously.’ A woeful smile ghosts over Charles’ lips at the memory.

Erik doesn’t reply, content to listening to Charles speak. He’s a comfortable presence at Charles’ side, his hand a warm brand on Charles’ arm. 

‘After my father passed away my mother remarried,’ Charles continues. ‘And then Shaw’s eyes fell upon me.’ Erik snarls at the mention of the name. Maybe even Charles would have if he could muster the anger and energy to spend over a dead man. ‘I packed a few books in my trunk when I came to Genosha, and they were my only companions when I was bound to Shaw’s harem.’

Erik’s hand moves further down Charles’ arm to curl his long fingers around Charles’ palm, as if to provide comfort in a way words can’t.

‘And all that knowledge I had accumulated over the years didn’t go to waste in the end like my mother thought it would. It helped me in stopping my pregnancy.’ Charles’ other hand comes to clutch at the robe over his stomach, and his voice wavers when he says, ‘Twice.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Erik whispers. Coming from Erik, it’s more than a mere condolence, for he, too, has lost his child.

‘It had to be done,’ Charles says, shaking his head. He blinks his eyes to clear it of the moisture covering it. ‘I couldn’t let Shaw’s spawn enter this world. I couldn’t-’ Charles stops to take a shaky breath. ‘Besides, what future would a concubine’s child have? For it would have forever borne the reputation of being a whor-’

‘No!’ Erik cuts Charles off with a severe finger on his lip. The steel in Erik’s voice rattles around the four walls upsettingly. ‘Never call yourself that. Never.’

Charles smiles woefully. ‘That’s what I am to the world, aren’t I?’ 

That’s what he’ll always be to the world. Shaw’s whore.

‘Fuck the world,’ Erik snarls. Charles would have pondered over the sudden anger in Erik’s eyes if he hadn’t been surprised by the outburst. ‘Fuck the world,’ Erik says again, a little softer this time. ‘You’re so much more than that, Charles. You’re brilliant, kind, honest and generous. You were kind and generous to me even when I didn’t deserve it.’ 

Charles shakes his head to protest, but Erik continues, ‘It’s true. I spent many years believing that killing Shaw would bring me peace. It gave me closure, yes, but it didn’t bring me peace. You did. You brought me peace. You showed me how to smile again. You taught me how to be happy when I believed that I had buried it with my family. You brought back love into my life when I had given up hope.’

Erik stops, and blinks several times, as though he, too, is surprised by his confession. Charles, for his part, only gapes at Erik in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taking Charles’ other hand gently from where it’s twisted in his robe, Erik takes a deep breath, and says, ‘You are the light in my world of darkness, Charles. And if you’ll allow me, I would like to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.’

There are many things Charles could say to that. He could say that Erik’s the only one who has respected him for who he is. That Erik’s the only friend he has ever had in his life. He could say that he probably fell in love with Erik the day Erik had angrily handed him a bag of gold coins and the reins of a horse and had told him to go home without expecting anything in return. Charles could say a lot of things, but he can’t. Not when his tongue is stuck to the floor his mouth. So he tugs on Erik’s hands that are holding his’ and pulls Erik into a fierce kiss.

*

**~3 years later~**

‘Is that all?’ Angel asks from behind the counter.

Charles ticks off ‘5 bundles of  _ waterhyssop’ _ from the list and slips the parchment into the pocket of his robe. ‘Yes, that would be all for now. Could you please have Sean deliver it?’

He pays for his purchases and then remembers. ‘Oh, and, Angel, could you please add two dozens of nutmegs and swalloroot as well?’

Angel looks at him skeptically, like he’s making a weird request. Maybe he is. The last of the supplies aren’t to concoct medicines for his patients, but for his own well-being, and in turn the well-being of the tiny life growing inside him. 

A small smile tugs at his lips at the thought, and his hand comes to cover his abdomen protectively. He’s still three months in, and not showing, so Angel doesn’t make anything of his reaction.

‘Here,’ she says, placing a bundle of swallowroot and nutmeg bound in a lotus leaf. ‘Jean’s mother was complaining of swelling in her shoulder joint. I told her to go see you. Can you make time for her today?’

Charles recalls his schedule for the day. He has no prior appointments with any of his patients, and apart from the few hours he has to mentor Hank on root medicine before lunch, he’s free for the rest of the day until Erik returns. 

‘Send her sometime after lunch,’ he says, smiling.

Just as Charles finishes paying for his purchase, an old woman enters the shop, her round face framed by greying hair. ‘Oh, hello. I was wondering if you could help me procure a bunch of flowers for my daughter,’ she asks Angel.

Charles leaves Angel to attend to the woman and bids his leave from the shop. Angel and the woman continue to converse behind him, a part of which carries to the exit and falls on his ears.

‘Who is that young man who was here when I entered? He looks familiar to me,’ asks the old woman, to which Angel replies, ‘He’s the town’s physician, and the General is his mate.’ 

_ He’s the town’s physician and the General is his mate _ , the words ring in his ear all the way home and some time after. A smile perpetually resides on his lips.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Also on Tumblr as [JackyJango](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com)!


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